


Wally

by anonymousdragon



Series: West Family Reunion [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 03:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11797128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousdragon/pseuds/anonymousdragon
Summary: That AU where Francine West is Leonard Snart's Aunt, part 2--> Some of Wally's thoughts on the matter





	Wally

Wally was five when he first began to realize that his home-life was atypical. Sure, plenty of his kindergarten classmates only lived with one parent, but most of them made no mention of cousins who visited more frequently than holidays, of cousins who would come in at weird hours of the night for Wally to wake up with one flipping pancakes, another asleep on the couch, and the third locked up in the bathroom blowdrying her hair.

His cousins were great though. Lisa helped him with arts and crafts, claiming that drawing was just putting makeup on paper. Whenever Len visited, the cereal with the prizes in it appeared—and there would even be an extra box or two left in a cupboard when he went back to Central. And Mick could always be counted on to help put together model planes or bring by the newest Hot Wheels car. When Wally was eight, Mick started letting him tag along to the autoshop he worked at whenever the cousins were in Keystone.

At fourteen, Lisa started teaching him to drive, and the next year he and Mick started souping up an old sedan for street races. The first one was just for the thrill of it. Mick and Lisa had come to cheer him on, laughing with the crowd at the start line. Len had come with them, though he had always seemed befuddled by Wally’s interest in cars, but he brought him books on the subject regardless.

When he was fifteen, Wally’s mom was diagnosed with MacGregor’s Syndrome—or more accurately, at fifteen Wally found out that his mom had been diagnosed. He was up late, attempting to finish an essay for his history class when he heard a conversation from the other room, the voices rapidly rising in volume.

“—Aunt Fran!” Len sounded rattled.

“I don’t want you to worry.” His mom said. “It’s why I didn’t say anything until you got back from your job in Milan.”

“How long have you known?”

“Six months.”

“Does Wally know?”

He got up from the computer—provided by Len and Lisa when he first hit high school—and went into the other room. Len was pacing and his mom leaned against the back wall looking tired. She had been looking tired more and more often lately.

“Do I know what?” He demanded. He stood in the doorframe between rooms and looked at them. Len looked almost shamefaced at being caught in this conversation.

“Wally,” His mom began. “I thought you went to bed.”

“Mom, what did you tell Len that you’ve been keeping from me?”

She sighed. “I’m—I’m sick, Wally.” She said. “It’s still in early stages right now, but honey, they don’t know much about the disease.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s called MacGregor’s Syndrome.”

Wally looked at Len, confused, then back to his mom. “Is it serious?” He asked.

Len nodded.

His mother looked like she was trying hard not to cry—his mother, whose reaction to learning he had competed in a street race was to laugh. “They think so yes.”

Wally bit his lip. “Mom…”

She held her arms out, offering a hug which he gladly came over to accept.

“Aunt Fran, I’ll cover any costs. You know we’re good for it.” Len said, fidgeting just outside the hug.

“That’s very sweet of you,” She said, “but I don’t know I’m comfortable accepting stolen money like that.”

Wally stepped back from the hug but stayed next to his mom, letting her keep one arm draped over his shoulders.

“You shouldn’t have to dip into savings for this.” Len insisted. “Please let us help.”

“Can we talk about this later?” His mom asked.

His gaze narrowed. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” She left the room, walking off toward her bedroom.

Len turned to look at Wally. “If I give you the money, you’ll take it, right?”

“What?” Wally said.

“The money, kid. You’ll take it, right?”

“Um, but Mom just said…”

“I’ll talk her around.”

“Then she’d take it.” He wrapped his arms around himself. “Len, is Mom going to be okay?”

Len froze, his nervous fidgets stopping for a moment. One hand reached out as though to pat Wally on the shoulder, but he aborted the motion. “I don’t know, kid, and I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I’m not going to lie to you about it. She won’t either.”

Wally reached out and grabbed his cousin in a hug. “I just want her to be okay.” Len stood still for a moment, before wrapping his arms around Wally.

“We’re going to do everything we can.”

Wally’s cousins were in and out over the next few years, continuing to try to persuade Francine to accept their stolen money rather than dip into Wally’s college fund and her retirement. Lisa did it best, slipping new, expensive necklaces and bracelets into the boxes of jewelry Francine had already decided to pawn off in the local shops. Mick helped Wally get established racing more regularly, and Francine bought the fiction that Wally had gotten a job at the autoshop. He liked the races, the speed, the power of the car, the sheer control it gave him when his mom’s illness made him feel so helpless—and the prize money certainly helped.

He was getting used to the monthly pleas and threats from his cousins to just accept the money, or the deposits they would make into Francine’s savings accounts that she could not really prevent, (“We’re _thieves,_ Aunt Fran, how do you think we got your bank information?” Lisa told them), when Lisa’s motorcycle zoomed into their small parking spot staked out next to their house and she stormed off the bike and into the house.

Wally was sitting at the kitchen table, his school books spread out in front of him. He could see the front door and the living room from the table and watched wide-eyed as Lisa slammed the house door shut behind her and stalked forward into the living room, leaving her high heeled boots on.

“Men!” She pronounced in tones of great aggravation. She threw her helmet down on the couch and followed it by flopping facedown beside it.

“Um,” Wally closed his textbook gingerly. His mom was out—she had a hospital appointment following her shift at the restaurant—and he was a little concerned he was being lumped in with Lisa’s frustration.

“Not you, Walls,” She said, her voice muffled by the couch cushions. “Just—Len, Mick, ugh.”

“Did something happen?”

She laughed, the sound catching in her throat. “You could say that. They’re such _idiots_.”

Wally pushed back his chair, its wooden feet scraping against the kitchen’s linoleum. “Did they get arrested?” His mind leapt to worst possibilities quicker than anything else. Each time a doctor called while his mom was out he was scared that this time it was going to be because she only had a month left or a week or some other inexplicably short amount to go.

“No, but Len’ll wish they had when I’m through with him.”

“Lisa, just tell me.”

“Their job went wrong. I told Len it was a three man job, but the target was only in town for a short period and I couldn’t get back soon enough. And—I mean, Lenny didn’t really say what happened, but Mick got hurt and I think they’ve split.”

“They broke up over it?” Wally was not certain he was ready for a world where Len and Mick were no longer Len-and-Mick.

“I think so? Len said they were done and then went off to sulk. I just want to smash their heads together until they talk, but Mick’s going to flee as soon as the hospital’s done with him, and…” She sighed, pulling herself upright on the couch. “Don’t worry though Walls, I’ll make sure we all make it to your graduation.” She stood up and sauntered into the bathroom, turning on the shower, before he had a chance to register her words.

They did show up. Lisa sat with his mom, who beamed brighter than anything he could imagine, and he caught sight of Mick in the back row, a heavy jacket over his shoulders. He didn’t see Len until he was walking up to receive his diploma, glimpsing his other cousin holding a camera on the far side of the gymnasium.

Lisa was the only one who came back to the house with them, though the cupcakes she brought had a distinct impression of Mick having made them.

That summer, he raced, knocked the competition back one after the other. They called him ‘Taillights” and on the streets, behind the wheel, he could forget that his mom was dying, forget the way she slept longer, and looked thinner.

As the seasons wore on and weird rumors began to come out of Central, his challengers started to dwindle and the stakes were shrinking along with them. He called Lisa after the news reports about the Kahndaq diamond heist and she sounded almost as flabbergasted as he, but CCPN’s articles some months later had her prancing around with her brother and Mick, all three wielding science fiction weapons. The article mentioned a Detective Joe West as being involved in the altercation, and he frowned at that. His mom had never talked much about his dad, but overheard comments from Len had given him some clues to go on. His dad, who had never contacted his mom, never contacted him, in all his years of life, in all her years of sickness, was now being interviewed about the Flash’s connection with the Central City Police. His cousins were supervillains and his deadbeat dad was being interviewed about superheroes on the evening news.

He wondered if his mom knew.

He started racing outside of Keystone. Unfamiliar roads made the turns tighter, the adrenaline rush of winning brighter. His cousins had not been by recently and his mom was getting worse. He knew it, even though she refused to say. He could see it in the way her hands shook at breakfast. He worked days at the autoshop and spent nights tearing up the streets for the prize money. It was easy enough to place a bet on himself before hand through a proxy or two and double his earnings that way.

His mom started talking about Iris one afternoon, about the sister he had never met and the dad who had raised her. He did not think he wanted to know. It had never seemed like Francine and Joe had gotten along well when they were together, but he guessed regrets resurged when… The doctors had given her a year that spring, that spring with some sort of space disaster in Central—as though the accelerator explosion had not been disaster enough for the city.

He had not realized she had gone to Central—seeking closure, seeking some sort of legacy—until she came back dressed to the nines. His mom wore sweatpants and t-shirts around the house, nice blouse and slacks for the doctors, but to run errands, sweatpants or jeans were fine. She looked older, more worn out than even another day of testing would have left her and he knew she didn’t have a doctor’s appointment today. He had them all listed in his phone’s calendar as well as written on the paper calendar she kept on the fridge. 

He was throwing together a sandwich, a frying pan ready to grill it, when she came in. “Your boss keep you late?” He asked.

“Oh honey,” She said.

“Mom?” He looked at her, the slight runs in her makeup from tear tracks. He left the sandwich half made on the table and went to her. “What happened?”

“I saw your sister today.” She said. “Joe told her I was dead.”

“That’s a dick move.” Wally said.

“She was so angry. I just—I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Mom.” He repeated and held out his arms. She hugged him and they clung together.

That night, he took his souped up sedan down the long road to Central. The races there were said to be even more lucrative than any that could be found even as far as Star City.


End file.
